


Picture dream.

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-19
Updated: 2005-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: While waiting for Fei Long's brother's move, Fei and Asami have a talk...
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Liu Fei Long, Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito
Kudos: 3





	Picture dream.

**Disclaimer: Yamane-sensei owns this.  
  
**  
“Are you always this anxious? You don’t seem the type.”  
  
As he stood by the window with a pensive expression on his face, I didn’t know what to make of it. Was he thinking about my brother’s next move or was he always this serious? In a way, I began to envy his ability to remain calm at all times, but still retain some sort of human feeling. Well, enough to react in a natural way.  
  
I sat on the bed staring at him thinking that I had been desensitized of these things in most areas, especially scraping away at my heart. The cold-blooded mask I wore whenever I killed was only a survival mechanism that served as a disguise that would keep my face from moving. Except, some part of me was still untouched…  
  
…and that was beyond my dreams.  
Whatever they were.  
  
He too may have been through similar experiences since we were in this interwoven world of secrets buried deeper than corpses that wished they could talk. But there was something that still suggested that he kept himself intact in some way that I had lost on my way in trying to please everyone but myself. Especially my father…if only he-  
  
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he interrupted as he turned around and leaned his back against the glass surface that was warmer than our own hearts. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and a lighter to light it up.  
He tilted his head and crossed his arms for a moment as those penetrating eyes intimidated me yet once again with the weight of their power.  
  
Or was that strength?  
  
“I was wondering why you were staring out the window. That was all,” I plainly answered while looking more at him since my eyes couldn’t stare away. There was something that they wanted to say, but couldn’t.  
  
We were both alike if that was the case.  
  
His eyes averted away and then straight at me once more. “Why would you think of something so frivolous? For someone so sharp, you have your off days, it seems.”  
He chuckled to spite me as he turned around to open the door and stare out of it.  
  
“Like me, you are the type to not sleep very well. Nor often, am I correct?” I asked while trying not to be thrown off by his pace. I continued to gaze at him because of the gravitational pull of his captivating figure.  
There was something very charismatic about him, but to me, it wasn’t because of words he used.  
  
It was the ones he wouldn’t say.  
  
“So what of it?” He faced the darkness with the moon not making its appearance on this anxious night.  
  
“I couldn’t believe that someone like you talked in his sleep.”  
His lips were a little open, but he refused to make a comment aloud. However, he half-closed his eyes and laughed a little as if to say, “So what of it?”  
  
“You were talking about places, but about food? It was a little confusing.”  
  
The man with the rolled-up sleeves continued to smoke. There was nothing but silence between us, but if there was something that I totally was, I embodied stubbornness. Maybe he did also, but I didn’t know why he suddenly said, “Do you interpret dreams?”  
  
“Yes, as odd as it may seem. Or not, considering that of my ancestry.” I cracked a little smile. I was not used to being unserious and unguarded. It was as if I was able to breathe wholly without holding it in and tensing up.  
  
“I had a dream about pictures. Someone kept on slipping me pictures in front of me as I was going to eat dinner.”  
“Pictures mean a large amount of things, but what kind were they?”  
“They were of the oddest things, like the ocean waves at midnight or a building blocking the sunlight. But as I leafed through them, I thought they were especially beautiful because they were from all kinds of obscure and famous places.”  
“And?”  
“What do you mean by ‘and’?”  
“Who gave you these pictures and what did you do with them?”  
“The pictures were just there, dropping from the ceiling. But they all landed all over the table without slipping to the ground. And I was told to eat them. I laughed at the absurdity, but something told me I should have. I trusted the voice that told me.”  
“Did you eat it anyway?”  
“Yes, I did. Strangely, they tasted of different flavors. Some were bitter and some were sweet. It was almost like eating candy.”  
  
The man shook his head and pushed the finished cigarette into the ashtray next to him.  
  
“Well, first of all, eating means that you’re accepting an idea. You’re ingesting it. If you had thrown up or did something similar to that, you would have been rejecting these ideas. And seeing as how you trusted the ‘voice’, that means you accepted the idea with good intentions.”  
“So, what about the pictures themselves?” He looked up to the sky. It was kind of refreshing to see him act like a curious child even though he knew more about the world than he should have.  
“Since the pictures were of different places and you were able to recollect them in detail, that means each of those scenes are engraved somewhere in your memory for one reason or another. They’re still active inside of your mind, whether or not you’re aware of it. But on the other hand, since someone was handing the pictures to you, you could be denying something that is really there. In a way, you’re rejecting the way it really is.”  
  
At long last, he turned his head to me with a solemn face. It wasn’t filled with arrogance or weakness, but that of concentrated, repressed, mixed emotions.  
  
“Ah…” he said. Then, his profile stared at mine and that expression filled with kindness and cruelty became one as he walked over to me to gently take the ends of my hair in between his fingers. Looking deeply into my eyes, he told me, “Thank you.”  
  
I was melting into his touch, but I somehow managed to ask, “But wait. What did the voice sound like to you?”  
  
“A young boy’s.”  
  
 **+/+/+/+/+/**  
  
When he woke up that day, he asked himself, “Why did I dream of that?”  
  
But it all made sense when they brought that cute photographer in front of him. His eyes became cold and his jaws became locked. This was much deeper than jealousy, confusion, or hurt.  
  
From the defiant way the boy looked up at him, he knew. He knew this belonged to Asami. It wasn’t because of the camera or the voice…  
  
As he took up his chin, he smiled to himself spitefully. The boy had something both of them could never possess…  
  
This boy’s eyes were straightforward and true.  
  
So, in wanting to uncover the truth, this boy was going to be Asami’s undoing…  
It made him sad and happy at the same time.  
  
Dreams weren’t meant to be trusted, were they?  
  
  
 **Owari.**

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how I made and edited this in less than an hour, but it was interesting ‘cause I wanted to do something with Asami and Fei since someone had asked a few months earlier.  
> Yes, I do interpret dreams. It is one of my odd hobbies…
> 
> Love,  
> Yui


End file.
